


The Boxer

by Sissytobitch10seconds



Category: Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children - Ransom Riggs
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Great Depression, Love, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Songfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-17 04:25:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15453294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sissytobitch10seconds/pseuds/Sissytobitch10seconds
Summary: Millard was one kid out of twenty in his town, meaning that he had no significance to anyone.And then his entire world was changed by two boys.





	1. I am just a poor boy

Millard stood on his porch, his hands shoved inside his pockets. The fabric wrapped around his body was poorly made, almost falling off of him it was so thin. His eyes drifted over the fields that rolled over the hills and up the small mountain he lived by. He could smell the meat from his neighbors cooking in their smoking tree. His stomach growled loudly as he took in the smell. 

He knew that he would be eating much later that night when his parents returned home from the market where they had been gone for a fortnight or so. He worried his lip in between his teeth as he leaned against the weak door frame. The gravely noise of the feedback from the radio took over his mind, causing him to turn and look back into the house. His sister had her sleeves rolled up around her shoulder in a desperate attempt to avoid getting overheated. The sweat seemed to roll off of them in great waves as the heat cascaded over the house. 

When the older sibling noticed him looking, she smiled a little, “Millard, please go open the windows upstairs so we can air out the bedding.”

“Yes Rhoda,” Millard said, rushing into the house carefully as to make sure he didn’t kick up the layer of dust that was coating the ground. He ran up the stairs, walking past the cramped spaces between the beds. He pressed his hands underneath the decaying wood of the window as he forced it open. They were still lucky enough to have large sheets of glass inside of the wood, unlike some of their neighbors who had had to sell their window panes. 

When Millard came tromping back down the steep stairs, he was met by another girl in their house. She was dressed similar to Rhoda, with a thin cotton layer of pink fabric falling over her thin body. “Millard!” she said, her face lighting up in a bright smile. “Rhoda has told me a lot about you.”

“Who are you?” the young boy asked, hovering at the last step with his hand still pressed against the cool wooden walls.

“Oh, my name is Bronwyn,” the girl said, turning and facing the young boy. 

“She’s going to be helping me clean today,” Rhoda said quickly, still clenching the broom in her overworked hands. 

“I thought I was helping you today,” Millard said, the hurt in his voice just slightly escaping from the lump in his throat. 

“Oh, sweetie, you can still help me. I just need some extra help today,” Rhoda said, rushing over to her brother and picking him up and a hug. 

“Okay,” Millard sniffled, rubbing his face with his hands after his sister had put him back down. 

“Can you go out to the neighbors and ask if they have some flour from their mill that we can borrow? I need to make some bread tonight,” his older sister asked. Millard nodded eagerly as he turned around and sprinted out of the door. He slowly came to a walk as he noticed a boy around the same age as the girl inside and Rhoda leaned against the gate.

“Watch out kid, the wolves are out today,” the boy growled, his voice low and husky as he watched him walk, his eyes were unblinking and bone-chillingly terrifying to the young child. Millard only walked past him, keeping his mouth clamped shut instead of asking questions like he so desired. 

The young child ran to the neighbors, completing the chore quickly as he turned back to go home with a paper bag full of white powder. As he returned, he heard the two voices from the other people that had been at his house only moments ago. Millard quickly ducked behind one of the leafless trees, keeping himself completely hidden as they walked past.

“Victor, I thought I told you not to scare the kid,” Bronwyn growled.

“I didn't,” Victor snapped back at her. “Was telling the truth.”

“How is this kid supposed to know what that means! He’s four!” she chided.

“I knew what that meant by the time I was four!”

“You did not! I didn’t, and we’re the same age, so don’t even try to pull that crap.”

“Language sis,” Victor snorted.

“One of these days, you’re going to get someone in big trouble because you scared them. Do you remember that story Ms. P. used to tell us? The one about the boy who ran into the woods and got eaten by bears,” Bronwyn asked.

“Of course I do, that was always your favorite one. And now the new girl Claire loves it.”

“You’re going to make that story come true,” she audibly sighed as she continued to talk, though their voices soon became too far away for Millard to hear. He didn’t understand what they had said, and questions began to flood his mind as he walked back to the farm that his parents ran.


	2. Though my stories seldom told

Millard lay back on his bed, the wind blowing through the open window and the sounds of laughter drifting up from the first level of the house. A peaceful smile graced his lips as the thought of his sister’s smile when she laughed filled his mind. She had been so sad for the past several years that the idea of her being happy had filled the entire family with an overabundance of joy. “Millard, love, come down please,” his mother called. Her voice was always something that calmed him down as she had the tone of voice that was like a Spring breeze. 

The young boy sat up off the bed, sliding his feet into his hand-me-down boots, though he left them unlaced as he stomped down the steps. “Yes, Mother?” he asked, trying his best to sound pleasant lest there be company.

“Come and meet the new cowboy in town,” she said, the smile on her face only getting bigger as she leaned down and whispered the rest into her son’s ear, “he has been talking about asking your sister to court him.”

Millard hummed in response as he walked into the small guest receiving area that they had. Protectiveness boiled in his gut as he saw the boy in front of him hadn’t aged a day. “Victor,” he sighed, his hands slipping into his pockets out of habit as he rocked back and forth on his heels. “How nice to finally see you again.”

“Nice to see you as well, Millard,” the boy said, giving the young boy a careful look. The aforementioned child took it as a warning as he stood next to the radio, careful to keep his mouth shut for the rest of the evening. 

“You two already know each other?” his mother asked, her brows knitting together with confusion.

“Oh yes,” Rhoda chimed in for her brother. “Victor stopped by around six years ago. He got some water and then was on his way again. I apologize, I just remembered. Millard has always had a better memory than I have,” she laughed.

“Well, we all have our gifts,” their father said with a small smile on his face as he looked at his daughter.

“I suppose so,” Victor laughed. The rest of the time they spent talking in the parlor was eerily tense, especially between Millard and Victor. It was only at dinner time when Millard was sent out to get water and Victor had valiantly volunteered to go with him that they finally allowed the tension to unwind itself.

“What does ‘the wolves are out today’ mean?” Millard asked, the empty water bucket clanging against his leg as he walked.

“If you don’t know, I’m going to have to wait for your sister to tell you. She’s a very special girl, y’know,” Victor said.

“Why haven’t you aged? You look the same as you did when you first came to the house,” Millard commented after a moment.

“Time doesn’t affect people like me like it does normal people,” Victor said.

“People like you?” Millard asked. “You mean cowboys?”

“No. There are people like me with all different kinds of jobs. Just you wait and see,” Victor laughed. 

“Do you really want to court my sister?” 

“Not really. She’s a close friend. I’ve known her a little longer than I would like to admit and she’s more like a sister to me than a lover.”

“Oh. Is Bronwyn like you?” Millard asked. He placed the bucket on the edge of the well, tying the rope around the top.

“Yes. There are a lot of people like us, like I already said,” Victor sighed, leaning against the edge of the well. 

“So what kind of people are you?”

“Special.”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” the ten-year-old grumbled as he began to hoist the bucked out from the well slowly.

“We’re people that can do things that normal people can’t. Like what you read about in books or hear about in the stories on the radio.”

“What can you do then?” Millard asked, his eyebrows raised in delight.

“I can lift things like trains with one hand, so can my twin sister Bronwyn,” Victor said proudly, flexing his muscles through his cotton shirt.

“Do you really have enough muscle for that?” Millard asked, his face displaying his disbelief.

“I can. Just because I don’t look like I can don’t mean I can’t,” he said, tutting his tongue.

“Do you know anyone who can disappear?” Millard asked quietly as they began to walk back to the house.

“I know a girl who’s completely invisible all of the time,” he said, rubbing his chin in thought.

“You mean like this?” Millard asked, lifting up his shirt to reveal, nothing. You could completely see through his torso and into his chest, where his heart was beating frantically.

“Does anyone else know about this?” Victor asked urgently, tugging the ten-year-olds shirt back down. Millard shook his head, his heart beating even more widely as he saw the frightened look in the older man’s eyes.  “Good. Keep it that way. If someone does find out, you run away as fast as you can, you got that?”

“Yessir,” Millard whimpered as he picked up the water bucket again.


	3. I have squandered my resistance

The Summer had fled faster than the now thirteen-year-old boy had wanted. He had too much on his mind to be holed up all winter. The Kansas sky seemed to stretch on forever as he walked through the fields of carrots and other assorted root vegetables. He thought of what he hid underneath his shirt, what had not changed since he had last been visited by Victor. He had not seen the other man in a long, long time. 

The man was constantly on his mind, which only terrified the teenager more. Other boys his age talked of what women they would be asking to court in the next few years, but all he could think of was the man in the cowboy hat with the piercing blue eyes. He wanted those eyes on him all the time, wreaking over his body with their judgmental look. But wanting this made him scared, so he had been planning to ask for the hand of any girl who would accept him as soon as he was old enough.

The older he gets, the more terrifying he realizes everything is. The fear sits in the pit of his stomach and the back of his brain as he lay awake at night, listening to the sound of his younger siblings breath.

There was something wrong with him, and he knew it. There were so, so many things that were wrong with him. He would be fourteen next year, old enough to ask for the hand of some girl and have her be promised to him like what had happened to his sister just after the man- Victor- had left. 

Millard had been too lost in his thoughts to realize that his younger brother was barreling through the fields, moving large corn stalks as he did so, almost breaking the stems. “Mill! Mill!” the young boy shouted, launching himself at his brother. “Sissy is gonna have da baby,” he said, his baby talk getting progressively worse as he grew more and more excited.

Millard felt his stomach drop, his face fell as he picked up his younger brother, sprinting back to the house as fast as he could. “Brudder?” the young boy asked, his voice quivering with fear. “Why are you scawed?” 

“No reason,” Millard shook his head, making the toddler beam. 

“Okay,” he babbled, waddling into the house. Millard collapsed down on the porch, hanging his head in his hands as he courage failed him, preventing him from going into the house. Soon, he was joined by his younger sister.

“Erik seems pretty happy,” she offered, referring to Rhoda’s young husband.

“He did say when he married her that he wanted a large family,” he sighed.

“What’s wrong? You were always closest to Rhoda, don’t you want to go see her before Ma doesn’t let anyone in?” Violet asked, her hand brushing Millard’s shoulder.

“I’m scared,” the older whispered, tears beginning to form in his eyes. “Vi, I’m scared of so many things.”

“Like what?” she asked, completely oblivious.

“Everything,” Millard whispered, looking over at her with watery eyes. “I have to court a girl next year, but I don’t feel attracted to any of the girls in the village.”

“You’ll find the right one,” Violet assured. 

“There are so many things to be afraid of,” he whispered again, flinching as he heard his sister scream in agony. “So, so many things.”


	4. For a pocket full of mumbles, such are promises

“You two can go in now,” the tall woman said, walking slowly out onto the porch where the two siblings had remained. They nodded in response, Violet stood eagerly and walked into the house, though Millard waited a moment, trailing after his sister and mother.

He could feel his heartbeat in his ears as he walked through the creaky, old house. His parent's room was crowded with people, spilling out of the room. He stood on the outskirts of the door, trying to see over the shoulders of his parents as siblings. He could just barely see his sister and her husband sitting on the bed. Rhoda’s eyes were focused on the small lump of blankets in her arms, holding her new baby close to her chest.

Millard father and mother only noticed after Violet turned around and smiled. “See?” she sassed, “Everything is okay! I told you.”

The young teenager smiled weakly as he pushed his way into the room, walking over to his sister. “Millard,” she cooed, motioning for him to sit down on the bed. “Would you like to hold her?”

He nodded mutely, waiting as she transferred the newborn into his arms. He quaked lightly, feeling the buzzing in his stomach spread out to his limbs as his eyes bore down on the small, squished face of his niece. “What’s her name?” he asked, trying to suppress the feeling that had now traveled down to his wrists.

“Bronwyn,” Rhoda answered, a small smile plastered to her lips. Millard nodded wordlessly, his thoughts strayed back to the boy. 

He handed the baby back to his sister, giving Rhoda a kiss to the forehead before he ran out of the house. He made it down the road a little way to the tree that he had hidden behind when he was four before he collapsed, his lungs heaving. 

“Woah there kid,” Victor said, lifting him up off the ground.

“It’s all your fault,” Millard whispered, his entire body was filled with the sensation again. 

“Kid, calm down,” he growled, gripping his shoulders so that he could feel his nails digging into his skin. “You’re disappearing.”


End file.
